At her left, a glass of water filled to the brim and a packet of paracetamol sat as if the divine hand of God had put it there. The world spun when she sat up too fast in her excitement, but she ignored it and swallowed the pills, drinking almost the entire glass. A note sat next to the now-open box.

Getting you to bed was like getting a two-year-old there. Or, at least, what I imagine it would be like—thanks for confirming my lack of desire to have kids. Enjoy work today, Sunshine! —Andy

Her friends were assholes. Once Frazer wasn’t blinded by the brightness of her phone’s screen, she sent a message to both Andy and Rob, saying exactly that. With the phone in her hand, Frazer started to get an odd feeling low in her gut. It wasn’t alcohol induced.

She’d been staring at her phone in the crowded bathroom the night before. Why?

All at once, her mouth went dry again. She hadn’t done that, had she? Surely she wasn’t the person that did that.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her sent messages. There, at the top of the list staring at her like regret incarnate, was a message to Cora.

Because she felt like some self-flagellation, Frazer opened it.

I’m not sorry.

What? Yes she was!

Frazer threw her phone on the end of the bed and groaned loudly, pulling the blanket over her head.

Yep, she definitely regretted it.

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER NINE

Frazer wasn’t sorry?

What the hell did that mean? For the last two days, Frazer had seemed to purposefully avoid Cora at work. From what Cora had gleaned, Frazer was definitely sorry. As she should be. Just like Cora was; it was all a big mistake.

Squinting at the message for the tenth time that morning, Cora finally noticed the timestamp.

03:14.

A smirk played at her lips that she should have tried harder to wipe away. Frazer had drunk-texted her. Breathing out slowly, Cora shoved her phone into her pocket. Frazer hadn’t meant it; unless she had.

A nurse popped her head into the room. “Hey, Cora, you have a minute?”

Closing the patient’s note that had been in front of her, Cora turned to face her. Anything to stop this back-and-forth in her head. “Sure, what’s up, Jess?”

She was a younger nurse, one of the many new graduates. But as the ward was one Cora frequented, she made an effort to learn their names. The ward was mostly filled with older patients needing referrals and help with the government documents or paperwork before moving into an aged-care facility. Cora did everything from sign and witness last will and testaments to doing what she did all too frequently: holding someone’s hand to tell them they wouldn’t be going back to their own home again.